


Possession

by arcaneheart



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Captivity, Dubious Consent, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaneheart/pseuds/arcaneheart
Summary: Better to worry about those who found themselves, instead, entwined in the tendrils of his infatuation. It coiled itself around them, squeezing the life out of whatever it touched, destroying them completely until they were a compliant victim ready to be consumed whole.If Eiji wanted to put himself between Yut-Lung and Ash, then he could happily be crushed in that same embrace.Three times Eiji doesn't escape his captivity in the Lee mansion.





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> I love Yue, but occasionally I like to poke around at some of his darker tendencies to see how far I can push him - this is what I ended up with.

The procession from the car that had carried them away from the police station to the Lee home was quiet, taut with a kind of terse, uncertain silence that Yut-Lung savored. Eiji stood next to him and it was clear that his mind was working out his chances if he tried, at any point, to flee. His eyes drifted to the door - blocked off, of course. They then drifted to the people who accompanied them, knowing he was outnumbered.

He stayed completely still, in the end.

It didn’t take long for news of Ash’s fight with Arthur to reach him, for the location of both Ash and Eiji to be acquired. Securing Eiji was almost too easy at that point - most importantly, they’d been separated, and without Ash’s watchful eye, Eiji was powerless.

Yut-Lung had Eiji, tucked away until he could be of use to him. Now the challenge was simply to wait. Eventually, Ash would recover, notice his absence, and come for him. Yut-Lung was counting on it.

Eiji was a mystery to him. Not Eiji himself, per se; he was simple, easy to read, his feelings worn recklessly on his sleeve for the world to see. But this vicelike hold he had over Ash Lynx, _that_ was something of interest to him.

Guards were posted outside Eiji’s door who reported to him regularly, but he wasn’t foolish enough to trust that alone. There was enough surveillance on-site that he could keep a careful watch over Eiji while they waited out their time together. He watched, kept track of him, looked for anything that pointed to a crack in the facade.

Eiji kept his wits about him for now. Time passed but Yut-Lung wasn’t fooled into believing that Eiji had settled into captivity willingly. He could still see it, that fire in his eyes whenever they were face-to-face, that something was formulating beneath the doe-eyed innocence he attempted to project, even beneath the harsh, angry words he tried to spit at him. But Eiji wasn’t practiced enough in hatred to truly express it. Hatred chose its own form.

The night Yut-Lung’s mother died, nightmares gripped him and the world was painted red. He didn’t sleep, but the nightmares flashed in front of his waking eyes, an accompaniment to the dark shadows of his bedroom. Shadows shaped like Lees, as they circled around his mother’s dying form, hungry scavengers. Yut-Lung feared them then; he was only half shadow.

The vision of his brother’s face used to remind him of that night. It had made things easier for him. Now, when he walked into the room where his brother remained, expression slackened under the drugs, mind voided of everything: his senses, his memories, his cruelty - it reminded Yut-Lung that he had won.

Yut-Lung doubted Eiji was capable of such hatred, the kind that burned beneath his skin. The kind that ran chaotic paths through his veins without anything left to focus it on. But he was looking forward to finding out.

His brothers would all soon be dead, save one. Their wives and children, too. He’d eradicate every one of the shadows that lined the perimeter of his nightmares and squeeze the remaining cruelty out of the one who remained.

All of that darkness and cruelty belonged to him now.

* * *

Eiji’s first attempt to escape took the form of deception. He’d lied to his guards, doubled over with claims of stomach pain. He’d even gone so far as requesting medical attention. They’d believed him long enough to leave the door ajar, and while one of them went to call for assistance, Eiji bolted.

He must have known he wouldn’t make it far, trying to navigate the halls of that mansion alone. He was quickly apprehended, brought back to his quarters, and left in isolation behind the locked door until Yut-Lung came in to see him.

“Feeling better now?” he asked, and Eiji refused to look up and meet his eyes, or rise to the bait. Eiji didn’t respond to him either, and so Yut-Lung continued. “I was informed that you were unwell today, and I thought I might offer my assistance. I’m quite informed in herbal remedies, as you know. Maybe some tea to settle your nerves?”

Eiji’s face darkened at the comment. The tea Ibe had been given, he was sure he was remembering it now. It was hardly the limit of Yut-Lung’s capabilities, but it was enough to get the point across. He didn’t need to mention that one of his brother’s wives had imbibed a poison that made her cry tears of blood before death finally took her.

“I will not take anything from you.” A pause. “I am not afraid of you.”

Eiji looked at him then and his face told him everything he needed to know, the truth lurking beneath: his fear, his rage, his anxiety.

Deception didn’t suit him; there was an honesty inherent to his person that separated the lies even as they hit his lips, floated them to the top like oil on water. They curdled on the tip of his tongue.

For Yut-Lung, lies tasted of the tingling fizz of dry champagne or the bite of tart strawberries. A painful saccharine.

“You have to eat sometime,” was all Yut-Lung told him as he left the room.

The next meal that was brought to Eiji came back untouched.

* * *

The next attempt, his deception transformed into destruction. Eiji smashed an antique bowl against a guard’s head and slipped past the second in the ensuing chaos. It had left behind deep, penetrating gashes, ones that had required stitches to fix up and the carpeting to be replaced where he fell. This was far more interesting to him, this Eiji, the chase escalating up to a point where he was willing to use violence to get what he wanted.

The steward came to inform him, suitably submissive, language peppered with apologies about the bowl and reassurance that Eiji’s room was secured, a new guard posted beside it.

Yut-Lung watched the footage of the escape, then immediately watched it again. Eiji didn’t have the graceful, sleek movements Yut-Lung was familiar with, nor did he have the raw physical dominance of some of the men under his hire. What he did have was a frenetic determination, a fearless resolve contained within his unassuming presence. He had the benefit of being consistently underestimated.

Ash had almost certainly seen this side of Eiji. He was a fighting spitfire, uncouth as he was unworthy. It was a quiet rage, but it bubbled over the surface.

A warm, familiar heat coiled between his legs as he watched the footage a final time and realization settled over him. A feeling more curiosity than desire, a feeling drawn out by the sharp edge of Eiji’s unexpected violence. His eyes detailed the messy, expensive disaster left in its wake. Eiji was cracking, bit by bit. It was all spilling out of him, like the stuffing in an old childhood toy whose seams had burst.

Yut-Lung didn’t care about the bowl. It was from his brother’s collection and he found perverse pleasure in seeing the glittering blue shards scattered across the patterned rug. More interesting was the smear of blood that stained it, from where the bowl had hit and his guard had fallen. Dark, liquid crimson, the streak curved upward like a smile with crystalline spikes as eyes. Yut-Lung smiled back at it.

The little rabbit had teeth, after all, and he was willing to break skin.

* * *

Only once, Eiji tried to reason with him.

He didn’t beg; even Eiji wasn’t shameful enough to lower himself to that, but he _pleaded_.

When Yut-Lung found him, he was pacing like an animal in his cage. He didn’t make any sudden movements when he heard Yut-Lung’s approach. Instead, he slowed to a pause and turned to face him.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Yut-Lung said.

“Please stop this,” Eiji replied. He sounded tired. “Let me go.”

“Why would I go and send you running back to Ash? No, I like having you right here where I can keep track.”

Eiji watched him, and the sad, pitying look in his eyes wrought a burning, seething rage inside of him.

“You do not have to be this way,” Eiji whispered. “You don’t have to hurt people.”

Eiji stared at him with hopeful, infuriating innocence and Yut-Lung wanted to shut them, to blind him so he wouldn’t look at him with such pity. What did a boy like him understand about what Yut-Lung had to do?

Hours later, alone and already half-drunk on wine, Eiji’s words were still circling him, echoes darting through the corners of his mind. The arrogance, the thoughtless _defiance_ of it. He was fearless, he’d give Eiji that much - with nothing to lose, he felt no need to hold back.

A twinge of that same familiar arousal coursed through him, intermingled with the shame and the rage. Quiet and unassuming, his fingers slid down his body. They were nimble and quick to getting him where he wanted, chasing visions of beautiful breakdown and breathless in the aftermath.

People looked at him and saw a snake - all teeth and venom, and he supposed that was fair enough. But his poison was precious to him and he saved it only for those who’d earned his hatred, the privilege of being destroyed by him. Hatred was too close to love not to be earned, bound by the mutual component of passion.

Better to worry about those who found themselves, instead, entwined in the tendrils of his infatuation. It coiled itself around them, squeezing the life out of whatever it touched, destroying them completely until they were a compliant victim ready to be consumed whole.

If Eiji wanted to put himself between Yut-Lung and Ash, then he could happily be crushed in that same embrace.

* * *

The final time Eiji failed to escape, it was simple and straightforward; he’d simply attempted to flee, when the guard’s back was turned for a brief moment. He barely made it more than ten feet before he was apprehended. This time, they took no risks. They administered a sedative, and once they were sure that Eiji was unconscious, they called for Yut-Lung.

Eiji lay on the bed, prone on his back, helpless under the drugs he had been given. Yut-Lung was reminded of that childhood toy, its seams burst open and its artificial guts splayed out over the bedspread.

Quietly, Yut-Lung leaned forward, his hair dangling like a rope over the exposed skin of Eiji’s neck. It almost looked like a noose. He reached forward to brush the hair aside, but his fingers lingered as he did so, spreading and flexing a few times over Eiji's throat before they found a loose but comfortable grip around it.

He was a stupid boy, so powerless, so naive, so content to be possessed by Ash. His fingers closed, just a little, to tighten his grip.

And Ash, feline as he was, enjoyed the game just as much, toying with his meal before claiming it. It was not the way of a snake, no sense of playful pursuit, only waiting until your prey was ready to be crushed and consumed.

Yut-Lung’s grip slackened, his thumb running slow, languid circles over the slightly reddened skin of Eiji’s neck before relaxing it entirely. The boy would break, sooner or later, that much he was sure of.

He didn’t draw his hand back. Instead, he let his fingers travel, down over the fabric of Eiji’s shirt, let them linger over the soft flesh around his navel. Silent with the grace he’d learned over so many years, he unfastened the button on Eiji’s jeans and opened the front to expose his underwear.

Only then did Eiji stir; a twitch, a soft murmur slipping past his lips, his cock stiffening in reaction to the newfound attention. Yut-Lung traced his fingers over it, delicate, through his underwear, before wrapping his hand around the growing bulge and squeezing.

A yelp of pain, followed by a quiet moan.

Eiji’s eyes fluttered beneath his closed lids, briefly, as though searching for its source by instinct. Yut-Lung slid his hand down the length of his body, easily loosening his jeans and pulling them down over his hips and ass.

“Ash?” he asked. His voice was quiet, uncertain. Unfocused, delirious from the sedatives, but not resisting his touch; Ash’s touch.

Yut-Lung leaned down, pressed his mouth to Eiji’s, hard enough to crush the words in his mouth, like he wanted to suffocate him.

“Yes,” he lied, a burst of bitter sweetness on his tongue. “It’s Ash.”

“What are you…” Eij’s voice trailed off, his eyes too heavy to open, his mind slipped back into its restful state. Yut-Lung’s fingers traveled lightly across Eiji’s skin, his balls, the soft patch of hair at the base of his cock. They made their way up the shaft until his thumb dabbed at the forming precum at its head.

Eiji’s body relaxed as he slipped through layers of consciousness, but his body moved instinctively, thrusting weakly into Yut-Lung’s hand. He wasn’t any better than the rest of them, any more pure, his body still longed for the things that were primal and shameful. Things Yut-Lung learned in secret, in back rooms where the walls had eyes and even whispers had teeth and claws and venom.

He moved then, silent. He climbed onto the mattress, his legs straddling over Eiji’s. There was an uncomfortable tightness restricted within the confines of his own clothing and he unfastened the front of his pants to allow his erection freedom. Eiji opened his legs just enough - unknowingly, maybe - for him to feel himself slide between his thighs, overcome by the warmth of his skin. A small twitch of Eiji’s leg and Yut-Lung gave a quick thrust forward to meet the friction, bit his tongue to ensure his own continued silence. For most things in his life, silence was key.

Eiji followed no such decorum, his vocalizations emerging in a mewling whimper. His hand moved with a slow rhythm and the slow, gentle rocking of Eiji’s hips coming to meet him. Eiji never once opened his eyes. He moved by instinct, pure animal want.

He knew that Ash would never touch him like this, even if he had the chance. He was too afraid to contaminate Eiji with the filth that bathed the two of them. Maybe the only benefit of his nature was being able to shed his own skin, for a time, and to wear someone else’s. Maybe then he’d be able to understand whatever this was between them.

Eiji’s body tensed as he came, his eyes closed and his mouth moving silently, Ash’s name on his lips. Yut-Lung rocked through his own release, pulled back from the mess they had made and climbed off of the bed.

He didn’t look at Eiji as he re-situated and straightened his own clothing before turning towards the door. As he reached the door frame, he paused, considered a backward glance before moving forward again. He would send someone else back in to clean up after the mess.

* * *

They’d all seen the broadcast, that Ash Lynx had been declared dead at the hospital. It wasn’t true, of course, but if it was… what then, of Eiji?

There was almost no time to consider his answer. When he heard the shattering glass come from Eiji’s room, he knew the game was coming to a close. Either Eiji had taken his advice to jump out the window, or he’d become desperate in a much different way. He waited to hear any further noise, a sickening crack to indicate the former.

It was the latter.

Glass against his neck, the shard pressed against his lithe skin granted him a shiver of pain. He breathed in and felt the movement of it at his throat as Eiji’s hand trembled, his body panicking by instinct but rigid with anticipation. He wondered if his blood would spill in a spray or a waterfall, depending on where Eiji decided to cut him.

Eiji guided them out of the house with confidence, traded sharp smooth glass for cold gunmetal. He commanded the driver take them downtown, then demanded that he stop. The barrel of the gun never left Yut-Lung’s temple until Eiji pulled him out of the car and finally took a few steps back to regard him.

There was an awareness in Eiji’s eyes that made Yut-Lung wonder if he’d realized, if he’d remembered what transpired. Maybe it would be enough to push him over the line; maybe it was enough to convince him to pull the trigger. He held steady as Eiji aimed the gun at him, considered his actions, and then turned away to leave him behind.

“Ash is dead,” he called out, and both of them knew it was a lie.

As Eiji ran away, Yut-Lung imagined what his own blood might look like, splattered across the pavement in spurts of dark crimson. No, Eiji wouldn’t even give him that much.

He could feel Sing behind him, and shame filled him, overflowing, begging to burst out of him.

With Sing at his heels, he moved rapidly through the streets. The lamplight shone down over him, and as he passed each lamppost, his shadow flickered in acknowledgment. It was cast in front of him, and Yut-Lung saw himself constantly approaching it, always prepared to be absorbed by that dark half.

He walked into the darkness and was swallowed by it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow me on twitter if you are a fellow heathen! @[arcaneheart1](https://twitter.com/arcaneheart1)
> 
> Or come talk to me/leave a comment [at my CC](https://curiouscat.me/arcaneheart1)!


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